


Light of Hidden Flowers

by finnandfluke



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Angst, BAMF Peggy Carter, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Has Scars, Cuddling, Dirty Talk, Enthusiastic Consent, First Time, Hair Brushing, Idiots in Love, Knotting, Love Confessions, M/M, Marking, Mutual Pining, No beta we die like mne, Omega Bucky Barnes, POV Alternating, Panic Attacks, Peggy Carter Is a Good Bro, Peggy is a slytherin fight me, Pet Names, Post-Coital Cuddling, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Praise Kink, Proposals - sort of, Protective Bucky Barnes, Rimming, Scenting, Sleazy but competent Howard Stark, Steve doesn't know how to deal with being alpha, Steve thought he was beta, Suicidal Ideation, Touch-Starved, blowjob, catfa universe alteration, secondary-gender dysphoria
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 07:17:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16192745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/finnandfluke/pseuds/finnandfluke
Summary: Steve Rogers only wanted to be stronger; he never asked to be made different.





	Light of Hidden Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all! This started with a prompt by SnowFlakeWrites, who sent me a comment on my other a/b/o stuff. That was… over a year ago? And this has been coming along in fits and starts ever since. 
> 
> Title from 'Sonnet XVII' by Pablo Neruda

Agents were rushing around, nurses were drawing blood, Peggy was asking him questions, and Steve could only sit in the middle of it all and stare at his reflection in the windowpane. The prick of the needles barely registered. He heard Peggy’s questions as if through a fog. The Steve Rogers staring at him wasn’t the one he recognized. Howard Stark had promised to make him a new man, and Steve should have understood the risks involved, that he might end up facing this stranger in the mirror. There was nothing that he could do about it though, no way to reverse this… thing, now that Erskine was dead. And because the experiment had worked Steve knew damn well that the army would never bother to reverse it. There was no going back.

He had known shock before, and grief, but never like this. Steve could feel the imprint of his former self in the bones of his new body. He kept throwing himself against the sharp reality of his situation, and each time cut just as deeply as the first. Each breath he took felt aggressive. Raw. He wanted to rage at the agents bustling around him, too many crammed into the room, like they wanted to see the new sideshow freak. Steve Rogers, world’s strongest beta.

Except he wasn’t a beta. Steve Rogers wasn’t a beta. Steve could smell it on himself, the deep musk of a mature alpha under the sweet smell of new sweat. 

He loathed it.

Alphas were assholes, vicious and possessive and too sure of their right to take without asking. Alphas hurt what they couldn’t have and took the rest like it was their God-given right. Alphas had harassed Bucky from the time he was fourteen.

And Steve was one of them.

The back-alley fights of his childhood had seemed like a meagre defense, the last line between his best friend and a world that would judge him lesser for being an omega. Steve had cast himself as the self-sacrificing hero, wading against the tide of biology and societal expectations, desperate to carve out a safe place for the boy he loved. A place where alphas wouldn’t define the type of life that Bucky would lead. But Steve was an alpha, and in that new light… He was worse. God, he was so much worse than all the others combined. Proprietary and hostile and ugly in his want.

Steve felt his stomach heave. He lurched to his feet before the nurse could get another needle beneath his skin. He heard himself apologise as he weaved his way between the staff, throwing himself into the bathroom and shutting the door tightly. 

God, he was going to puke. He closed his eyes to avoid the mirror, to avoid seeing the distance to the floor, his own goddamned body. A perfect fucking alpha body, all muscle, all brawn and size, why did it have to… why does he take up so much space. It was… it was always the biggest ones that were the worst, always, and now he…. God he was huge, taller than Peggy, taller than everyone, he was… he was going to hurt someone. He was…

“Steve?” 

Peggy’s knock was hesitant but firm. After a pause, Steve heard the door creak open. There was nothing he wanted less than company, but then Peggy’s hands were on his shoulders and he was looking into her eyes. Looking up into her eyes, and for one impossible moment he thought the serum had worn off, that he must be small again. Then the cold of the hospital floor was seeping through his thin pants, and the cabinet handles were digging into his back, and he was suddenly aware that he couldn’t breathe.

She knelt on the floor next to him and pulled him close, bringing his face to her shoulder. “Deep breaths, that’s it,” Peggy coached him, “That’s it.”

Steve sucked in one lungful of air after another, each pulling the knot in his chest tighter until the tears started. Then he sat there, sobbing into Peggy’s shirt. He could smell her vague softness, so quintessentially beta. So familiar from his old life. 

“This isn’t…” Steve hiccuped, “This isn’t what I wanted. I thought…”

Peggy was pushing his hair back, fingers carding through. 

“I’m not supposed to be an alpha,” he said, “This was supposed to make me strong… healthy. Not… different. It wasn’t supposed to change me.”

The atmosphere shifted then, as Peggy’s hand stilled on his head, and he felt her take four deep breaths before answering. 

“It did not change you, Steven.”

He sat back against the counter and opened his mouth in reply.

“No,” Peggy said, “You listen to me. You are the same person who went into that vita-ray chamber. Exactly the same. The only thing that has changed is the way the world will treat you. And if you let that affect who you are, then you were never the man Erskine thought you were. Or the man I thought you were.”

Steve leaned into her arms and breathed, deep and sure for the first time in his life. They sat in silence, breathing together until Steve worked up the words that seared his throat.

“But what if I turn into one of the bad ones? I used to fight alphas in back alleys…” he choked out, “what if I end up like them?”

“Then I’ll stop you.” Her voice was so calm, so certain, that a chill ran down his spine. “I promise.”

For a moment Steve saw it happen, carefully taking aim, no hesitation as she pulled the trigger. He was so desperate that the thought was comforting. 

They stayed on that floor for a few minutes, long enough for Steve’s heart rate to steady. In the lull of the moment, he could appreciate the lack of arrhythmia. He wondered what Bucky would think of this new heart, so changed from the flighty, trembling thing of his youth. His friend had laid his head on Steve’s chest the night before his deployment. Now he wouldn’t recognize Steve’s heartbeat. Maybe his luck had run out entirely and Bucky wouldn’t know any part of him. 

But first things first. Steve needed to get to Bucky, to the front lines.

“So,” he rasped, “I’m an alpha in the army. What now?”

Peggy snorted. “From what I’ve heard,” she said in a commiserating tone, “There will be tights.”

~~~~

Steve gripped the transponder tightly, feeling the weight of it before sliding the device into his chest pocket. 

“Who is he?” Peggy’s voice was soft, as gentle as he’d ever heard it. Steve glanced into the cockpit, but Howard was paying more attention to the plane than to its passengers.

“I think he’s our pilot,” Steve said.

Her eyes flashed with fire, and Steve felt himself smile. He didn’t want to talk about it, not when there was a chance… not when Bucky might not…

“He’s my friend,” he said, “has been since we were kids.” 

Peggy was still looking at him, gazing steadily. “The truth, Steve. I can’t protect you if I don’t know.”

And there it was. She already suspected the truth. Steve knew he should have given her more credit, but he thought he’d been so careful to keep this secret. No one had ever known. Not his priest, not his Ma, and certainly not Bucky.

“He’s…” His voice caught in his throat. “Bucky’s nothing but a friend, really. We grew up together, and when he presented as omega… I wasn’t gonna let the world mess with him, y’know? And whenever I was sick…” Steve shook himself, cleared his throat. “We had each other’s backs, through all of it.”

She leaned forward, took his hand and turned it over, pressed their palms together. Whispering, she asked, “You love him?”

Steve stared at her for a long moment, then nodded.

Her eyes went terribly soft. “Oh, Steve,” she said. Peggy cupped his cheek, knowing better than to offer false assurances. This was war, and there was no sure thing.

He tried to find the words to explain what he’d never been brave enough to admit. Peggy was risking her livelihood and her life to help him, and he owed her the full explanation.

“If there is any chance…” he started, “any hope that he’s out there, then I gotta find him. We’re not… he’s not mine, but I’m still the one that’s been protecting him all our lives and I can’t- I know how it sounds, but… I can’t stop now, not when he might need me most.”

Peggy’s hands were steady as he talked. Steve was right, she wasn’t surprised. 

“Peg, if he’s out there, I’m bringing him back.” She nodded as if they weren’t both aware that he was taking on a suicide mission. “And when he’s back, will you-” God, Steve shouldn’t ask this of her, not on top of everything else, but the alternative would be unbearable. “Could you look out for him? I don’t-” He choked and swallowed harshly. “I don’t know how I’ll react to him, and I can’t risk…” Steve stared Peggy dead in the eye, willing her to understand. “I won’t be like them.”

She stared back, licking her lips while she took a moment to sort through her thoughts. Steve didn’t push. He knew what a burden he was asking her to take on. “You want me,” she said, “to ensure you don’t hurt the man you love.”

“Yes.”

Peggy nodded, then leaned even closer and pressed a kiss to his brow. Steve sagged in relief.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Howard called from the front, “You’d better get ready, we’re about to hit enemy airspace.” 

Steve jumped back, stuttering “Oh, we’re- she and I aren’t- we’re not-”

Howard just laughed at him.

“Really, Steve,” Peggy said, once again wearing her sharp sarcastic smile, “would it be so bad?”

Steve huffed a laugh and shook his head. “Sorry, Ma’am.” His smile was tight, humour strained, but Peggy’d be the last one to judge him for it. “You’re just not my type.” 

~~~~

Steve wove through the shadows as his dread spurred him on. Hydra had a fascination with omega biology, according to two betas, the only prisoners who had ever escaped from the labs. Beyond that fact their accounts were nearly incomprehensible. They talked about deadly light, about being pulled apart and stitched back together by means that no one could verify, about a voice in their heads telling them to rip the world open. The betas had referred to themselves as ‘prototypes’. Both had died within hours of reaching Allied forces.

Officially it was dismissed as shell-shock or hormone-induced hysteria.

But God, Steve could see the guns these Hydra mooks were carrying, and they looked capable of inflicting torture. Weird torture. 

They look like bullies. The errant thought grounded him. It was like every other time he tried to save Bucky, the thought patterns as familiar as a worn coat. Get him out. Distract the threat. Take the beating. Don’t die.

Guards were easy to evade. When they weren’t, they were easy to take out. Cameras would be trickier, and speed was of the essence, so Steve gave up on stealth when out of the guards’ eyesight. He made his way further into the factory, taking note of the strange machines and the large factory floor. If this really was a work camp, then the prisoners would have been taken care of. They’d be stronger than other POWs, probably well-fed and decently rested. With any luck, there’d be enough of them to overwhelm the defences and clear a path out. Thankfully the prisoner holding cells were centrally located, a stone’s throw from the weapon stockpile, and the one Hydra warden had the full set of keys.

He dropped down to the level of the prisoners, opening each cell and scanning faces while the soldiers stared at him in shock. When the doors were open they all filed out, quiet and orderly. 

“Is there anybody else? I’m looking for Sergeant James Barnes,” he asked, “he goes by Bucky.”

“There’s an isolation ward in the factory,” a clever-eyed beta spoke up, “Omegas only, but no one’s ever come back from it.”

Steve looked around at the men. Most of them were milling about, directionless and stunned. 

“Alright,” he said under his breath, putting steel into his spine. “The tree line is north-west, eighty yards past the gate.” Steve saw heads turn as his voice carried, alphas and betas alike looking to him for orders. “Get out fast and give ‘em hell. I’ll meet you guys in the clearing with anybody else I find.”

Steve turned to leave before a voice called him back.

“Wait,” the one of the alphas said, nerves in his voice, “You know what you’re doing?”

“Yeah,” Steve lied, easy as breathing, “I’ve knocked out Adolf Hitler over two hundred times.” Then he was running deeper into the factory and no one called him back.

The place was immense. Steve searched as thoroughly as he could, aware that the element of surprise was long gone. When guards came at him he didn’t bother trying to evade, just went through them as efficiently as possible, then got back to searching. Soon he hit upon a brick hallway that smelled like antiseptic and fear.

There was a man exiting one of the rooms, briefcase and coat tucked under his arms. He took off when he saw Steve. The thought of following crossed his mind, but then a moan caught his attention. When he entered the lab he froze, the smell of terror sharp enough to send his instincts screaming. This was where Bucky had been taken. This might have been where he- 

No, there was a man in the room, strapped to a table and muttering. Lank brown hair. Clammy skin. Utterly gorgeous and breathing and, “Bucky!” Steve sobbed with relief, looking over the beaten man, whispering quietly, “oh my God.” 

Bucky just blinked up at the ceiling, unfocused as Steve ripped off the restraints. Then, impossibly, Bucky was smiling at him, weary and broken and beautiful. Steve nearly cried as Bucky reached up to his face, breathing out, “Stevie,” as he stroked his cheeks. Bucky recognized him. Bucky was alive and he knew him and-

An explosion echoed through the compound, no doubt caused by the escaping soldiers. 

“Time to go,” he breathed into Bucky’s ear, hefting him off the table. Steve stroked a hand over the omega’s cheek, quickly clasping the side of his neck. It was so good to hold him, to feel his friend’s pulse under his palm. “I thought you were dead,” he murmured. 

Bucky resisted his obvious desire to sag against Steve, instead stepping away and looking Steve up and down. He swayed slightly, face awash with confusion.

“I thought you were smaller,” Bucky slurred, before promptly losing his balance and grabbing on to Steve. He held the omega as close as he dared, careful of injuries, quelling the desire to mold their bodies together. Bucky stilled against him, inhaling deeply and- 

Oh.

Bucky was scenting him. Because now he smelled like a stranger, like any other alpha, and nothing like Stevie.

Another explosion and the mantra started up again. Get him out.

“Stevie,” Bucky murmured, looking stricken, “What happened to you?”

Get him out. Distract the threat. Take the beating. Don’t die.

“I joined the army, Buck.”

They were stumbling through corridors, Bucky having righted himself, balance slowly returning but refusing to let go of Steve’s hand. His grip was tight enough to bruise, holding on in a way that he’d never dared when Steve was sickly and weak.

“Did it hurt,” Bucky asked.

“A little,” he lied.

Bucky looked him up and down, an odd shadow crossing behind his eyes. “Is it permanent?”

Steve flinched. “So far.”

They raced up metal stairs as the factory floor exploded around them. Bucky finally let go of his hand, both of them bracing against the railings with each detonated charge. All they needed was to cross the catwalk, take the elevator up to the roof where Steve had seen a fire escape, and make their way out to the forest. They were so close to freedom.

An alpha stepped out of the control center, past the service elevator, blocking their path, the mousy little man from the lab following closely. Steve heard Bucky whimper behind him and take a step closer to his back. Some feral creature inside of him snapped free. He thought it must be the alpha, calling to them across the catwalk, who was making Bucky cower, but a glance back and he saw the omega’s gaze fixed on the little man in the stupid hat.

That man had hurt Bucky, and he was going to pay. But first, he’d have to go through the alpha.

They were speaking to each other, but the blood was so loud in Steve’s ears and he didn’t hear his own voice. His hackles were up, rage crackling through his bones as he swung, blocked, reached for his gun only to be knocked down. Steve kicked the man in the chest, sending him flying. He righted himself and stalked forward, needing to kill the monsters that had hurt his omega.

There was a tug on the back of his jacket. Bucky was grabbing at him with one hand, the other wrapped around the catwalk’s railing. Steve looked down and saw open air between him and his prey, the bridge retracting on either side, his feet three steps from the edge.

“No matter what lies Erskine told you,” Schmidt bellowed, “you see, I was his greatest success!” Then the man was peeling his skin off, and Steve stepped back in shock. He stared at the grotesque face and wanted to vomit – this is what Erskine meant, bad turning worse. 

“You don’t have one of those, do you?” Bucky asked hollowly.

The skull-faced alpha was still talking, yelling across the divide, “You are afraid to admit that we have left humanity behind! We are the greatest of all alphas, and unlike you, I embrace it proudly! Without fear!”

Steve growled, and he saw Schmidt flinch as he stepped into the elevator. “Then how come you’re running?” he roared as the doors shut. Bucky gave another tug to the back of his jacket, drawing Steve closer to him, the omega staring blankly at the elevator doors. Steve looked around, evaluating possible escape routes, before grabbing Bucky’s hand and pulling him up the stairs.

The beam he led them to was creaking, but Steve was out of options. “Go on.” He motioned to Bucky. His friend just stared at him. Bucky opened his mouth as if to speak but paused, snapping it shut and heading to the railing. “Go,” Steve said again, “one at a time.”

Steve watched Bucky shuffle forward, his heart in his mouth the second Bucky was out of his reach. The building shook, the beam dropped a few inches, and Steve almost cried out. Then Bucky was running, throwing himself at the railing as the makeshift bridge fell into the fire below. Once Bucky hauled himself over the rail Steve allowed himself to breathe. Bucky stood up but wasn’t moving away. Why wasn’t he running, he needed to run!

“There’s gotta be a rope or something,” the omega hollered, and… no. No, Steve would not lose Bucky like this. 

“Just go!” Steve yelled. He would not watch the man he loved sacrifice himself. “Get out of here!” 

“No! Not without you!” Steve knew that look on Bucky’s face. He wouldn’t leave, the stubborn idiot. And there would be no talking him out of the decision, even if they had the time. 

Steve sighed and shook his head. He pried open a hole in the railing, walking back as far as the catwalk would let him. 

This was the stupidest idea he’d ever had. It was also the only idea he had. He ran to the edge and jumped.

When he was halfway across the expanse Steve felt an explosion force him upwards, buoying his flight even as it clouded his vision and set his ears ringing. He felt an impact against his chest and he scrambled to hang on, but his fingers were numb and his body was slipping down. Steve couldn’t breathe, panic overtaking his mind, spots starting to swim in his vision before hands wrapped around his arms and he was dragged over the rails. 

“I’ve got you, Stevie” Bucky whispered against his hair, hauling him up. They both clung to each other as they stumbled to the doors. Then they were outside, heading for the forest. There were men surrounding them, other soldiers, allies.

Steve collapsed next to Bucky. They laid in the grass, listening to the compound explode, watching smoke drift across the stars and struggling for breath. A beta with a thick moustache and a bowler hat came to stand over them.

“You’re an idiot, Cap,” he said solemnly, “You know that, right?”

Somewhere in the grass beside him, Bucky laughed weakly. “I tell him every day, Dum Dum,” he said as he struggled to his feet, then held out a hand for Steve to take. “So I figure he’ll fit right in with the rest of you.” The beta barked a laugh.

“Really, Buck?” Steve took the offered hand and pulled himself up. Bucky didn’t let go. “What’d you do, lend them your stupid?”

Dum Dum laughed again and shook his head, then waved them towards a tank. “You boys are in no state to be marching, you’ll ride with me and Gabe ‘til you get your feet back under you.”

Steve nodded and looked over at Bucky. The omega’s eyes were flitting around at the crowd, still a little dazed. Then he caught Steve’s gaze and they considered each other for a long moment. Bucky mouth worked as if preparing to say something, but for the second time the words seemed to die in his throat. Instead, he swayed close to Steve and slung his arm around the alpha’s shoulders as they slowly made their way to the tank.

~~~~

They took the walk back to basecamp in short bursts, resting when they could. Steve had started marching with the able-bodied men the moment he could hold himself upright. When they were on the move he could wander through the group, talk with the soldiers, offer information about their course to the scouting parties. But the moment they took a rest Steve had nothing to do but rethink every decision he’d made so far. Looking back, he could see just how many stupid choices he’d made, but none vexed him as much as his fight with Schmidt. The alpha had let instinct take over. He’d nearly gotten himself and Bucky killed because he was too busy being a possessive asshole to think. He refused to make the same mistake again. 

So Steve was resolutely giving Bucky his space. He was not going to be pushy, or possessive, or overprotective. He would not succumb to the instincts deafening his mind, begging him to check on his- 

On Bucky. Just Bucky. Not his anything, because the omega needed space. And time. 

It didn’t matter that Bucky spent every waking moment at his side, and every night curled up close enough to share warmth. The omega had been through a lot and his own instincts would be telling him to seek comfort in the familiar. Steve was familiar, so Bucky saw him as safe, and he refused to let alpha posturing taint something that Bucky needed. Steve was not going to take advantage of his friend’s situation. At all. 

“Shove over,” Bucky mumbled, sitting down and pressing himself against Steve, then surveying the resting company. They had made it into Ally-controlled territory, but they were, quite literally, not out of the woods yet. If their luck held they might find a supply road in a few hours, but it would be dusk at least before they reached the camp. So Steve only had to control himself until dusk, if he was lucky. After that Agent Carter would be near enough to stop him from doing something foolish.

But Bucky’s hand was moving on his thigh, stroking absentminded circles. His head was resting against Steve’s shoulder, nose buried in the soft fabric of the USO uniform. Scenting him, probably, though Steve reminded himself that it meant nothing. The gesture, intimate as it could be, was innocent. Bucky wasn’t used to his new scent and was trying to relearn a friend. That was all. There was nothing-

“Stevie,” Bucky breathed, barely heard above the wind, “Are you ever going to put the moves on me, or am I gonna have to spell it out?”

Steve snorted, coughing to disguise his laughter. This was ridiculous, sitting in a forest somewhere in Italy, hearing the same damn pickup line that dames used to try on Bucky. 

“Y’know,” Bucky purred, “That’s the first time you really smiled since you found me.” His voice was still husky, and Steve was sure it was a by-product of smoke inhalation. Still, it sounded filthy, like a heat-sick omega begging to be-

Steve scrubbed his hands across his face, so damned tense with the effort not to kiss his best friend. He wanted to take care of the man in front of him. Whatever that meant. All Steve had ever wanted to do was protect Bucky, but this urge to hold? To gather Bucky into his arms and tuck him away from the world? That was new. That was terrifying. Steve could see the steep slope between protecting someone and being a possessive asshole. 

So there would be no kissing, no uninvited touches, nothing that hadn’t been part of their life before.

But Bucky’s hand was creeping up his leg, fingers tracing circles that were getting dangerously close to… well…

Steve coughed again, feeling a flush rise up his neck and spread across his cheekbones. He would not take advantage of Bucky. Ever. And somehow he had to make his body accept that before hormones shredded the last of his sanity.

And then Bucky stopped, his hand falling away from Steve’s leg as he went rigid. 

“Forget it,” he ground out. Bucky was suddenly stiff-limbed, movements sharp and fretful as he stood up. Then he was gone, out and into the forest before Steve could process the sudden shift. Steve felt the emptiness at his side like a missing limb, and the urge to run after Bucky sang through his blood. But what could he even say?

I know you don’t want to be followed, but I’m worried about you. 

But Bucky was entitled to his space. He was allowed to process on his own without Steve babysitting him.

I’m so confused about who I am, and I just need you to be here with me. 

Steve shouldn’t be making this about himself. He wasn’t the priority

I can protect you now. Please let me protect you. 

He would not give in to instinct.

I’m not like other alphas. I promise. 

Except that he was. He always had been, even before the serum. His whole life had been cast in a new light, and now Steve could see that he’d been an aggressive, presumptuous alpha just like the rest. When he was frail no one had looked at him as a threat, but that didn’t make it okay.

Steve did nothing but stare into the forest, heart and instinct aching to follow Bucky. Months of repression gave way as Steve sat on the mossy ground, and it felt like every unsaid word draped itself across his shoulders, around his arms, dragging his heavy body deeper into the earth. He only roused when the scouts returned, giving the all-clear for the next leg of the journey.

~~~~

Bucky kept his eyes on the road until he could see the camp gates. Then he kept his eyes on the camp gates.

Because looking at anything else was a bad idea. 

The forest was too bright, the company too loud, and every man in it could be a warped reflection of him: angry, starved, beaten, feral. Ugly to the core with what they’ve seen. And Steve…

Steve walked next to him, healthy and glorious and stupid as always. Just a dumb kid who’d won an impossible fight all thanks to stubbornness and luck. But no, Steve would think that it was aptitude and strategy that had won the day. Steve would think himself capable of pulling another stunt like this. 

Steve hadn’t seen capable men fall, crumple, busted to pieces in moments. He hadn’t seen men drop before the shot finished ringing across the field. The best soldiers died every damned day, and Bucky had long since accepted that. Captain America might have been a symbol, but the Steve Rogers underneath was still a man like any other, just as susceptible to death.

Bucky wanted to go home. 

His fingers were clenched around the gun to keep his hands from shaking. The metal seemed to mould to his palm – or his palm to the metal – and the pain filled his mind enough to push down his screams. Bucky could feel his clothes itch, boots pinch, dog tags knocking incessantly against his sternum. His collar was open, sleeves pushed up just to get the material off his skin. Even the wind rasped his face and tugged his hair. Everything was swimming around him in shapes and colours he couldn’t recognize so he kept his eyes on the road.

Then the gate.

Then there was cheering, and he couldn’t find a place to look that wasn’t a swarming mass of pain, except Steve. So he looked at Steve, despite how it dragged the outside in, the mess of his emotions a pale reflection of the chaos around him. Easier, not quite good.

But fuck, it could be. 

He and Steve should just take off, two men running for the sea and the first merchant ship willing to take a couple of deckhands back to the states. Or not, because Captain America would draw attention wherever he went. But they could wait out the war somewhere quiet. Somewhere the US military wouldn’t look, and where the Germans wouldn’t bother to invade. 

All Steve had to do was realize Bucky was serious. Sure, he’d been a terrible flirt back home, but he’d always known that when the time came to choose it would be him and Stevie. It had always just been the two of them. So they’d get hitched in some burned out chapel, run off to someplace warm and quiet, make an honest living that had nothing to do with death, raise a dozen pups, and die quietly of old age.

Even as his mind wove the story he felt the drop of reality like a missed step. 

A bombshell beta was standing in front of Steve, speaking with him, and Bucky watched the tension unfurl from his body. Steve was smiling. Like it was easy with her. When was the last time he’d smiled like that at Bucky? Had he ever?

Bucky’s ears were ringing and he couldn’t feel the ground beneath his boots and Steve needed to look at him. 

“Hey,” he shouted before he felt his mouth open, “let’s hear it for Captain America!” 

And as Steve met his gaze Bucky knew he was staying in the war, because Steve wasn’t going to run away with him. Partly because Steve had never run from a fight, and Bucky, of all people, should have known that. But also because Steve wasn’t being shy and he wasn’t being gallant. Steve just didn’t want him. 

But that was fine. It was fine. Steve was healthy and strong and for the first time it was possible that he’d have a normal lifespan. And Bucky was going to be with him through every battle, ensuring that Steve got a chance to grow old.

‘Cause Bucky’d be damned if he let this war kill the man he loved.

~~~~

Howard Stark was an obnoxious sonofabitch who leered at omegas like they were his next meal. He was also the one in charge of arming and outfitting the 107th, so Bucky kept his mouth shut as Steve thanked the other alpha.

“No worries, gentlemen,” Howard preened, “anything for Captain America, after all.”

Steve and the rest started to file out of the room, Bucky moving to follow, when Howard called, “Oh, Sergeant Barnes, a word?”

Bucky didn’t flinch, but it was a near thing. Steve glanced over, and Bucky imagined a flash of instinctual protectiveness behind the bland curiosity. Bucky just nodded, certain that he could beat off Howard if need be. And then Steve was gone, and Bucky was in a room alone with an alpha he barely knew.

Not that he was scared. Just…

If he was Steve’s, this never would have happened. An interested alpha wouldn’t leave an omega alone with a rival. Hell, Steve hadn’t done it as a beta. But now that he had properly presented, now that he was Captain America, Steve could do so much better than some kid from Brooklyn who’d gotten fucked up in the war. Who was Bucky to stand in the way of that?

“So, Barnes,” Howard started, “about this jacket you wanted…”

Bucky waited, but Howard just kept making vague hand gestures, as if the point was obvious.

“Is there a problem,” Bucky asked, ignoring how Howard’s eyes wandered over his chest.

“Well, no,” Howard said, “there’s nothing that I can’t make. Obviously. But the colour you specified is rather… garish.” There was another long pause.

“All due respect,” Bucky began before Howard cut him off.

“I know,” he said, hands waving again, “I know, Sergeant. Rogers is a walking, talking American flag, but you are not Rogers. You’re training to be a sniper. You don’t want to be seen.”

Bucky relaxed a fraction, relieved that they were talking pure logistics.

“Besides, this war has killed too many already,” Howard smiled, swaying towards Barnes, “and you would be a terrible thing to waste.”

He was going for suave, Bucky could tell, and maybe before the war he would have humoured the alpha. But right now all it did was make Bucky’s skin crawl. 

“Stark,” Bucky ground out, “will you make the coat or not.”

Bucky watched Howard brush off the rebuke, slipping back into a professional demeanor. “Sure, I’ll make you the coat, but don’t blame me if you get shot.”

~~~~

The coat, when it was handed over to Bucky two days later, was perfect. Warm, oddly stylish, stuffed with as many hidden pockets as possible, and vibrant indigo. The colour was dark enough to blend in during the night and bright enough to be a target during the day.

Bright enough that, at first glance, he might be mistaken for Captain America.

It was a small, stupid thing, but Bucky knew how small, stupid things could sometimes save a guy’s life. 

“You know you don’t need to get dressed up to beat on Nazis,” Gabe ribbed, “Do your job right, and they won’t even see you.”

Lips quirked, Bucky shot back “Yeah, but if they get me I wanna be a pretty corpse.”

Gabe snorted, rolling his eyes, and moved off to bother Jacques about something. That’s when Bucky caught the stricken look on Steve’s face. He watched Steve struggle for a moment, looking for all the world like he’d been punched in the gut. 

“Buck-” he breathed, then swallowed, taking a moment to collect himself. Bucky watched him shift into the ghost of the boy he used to fight beside in Brooklyn, the one who thought righteousness was the only shield he needed. “We’re getting out of this,” Steve said, “both of us. And then we’re going home, Buck.”

Bucky nodded, tense as a bowstring. “Course we are, Stevie,” he said and tried to ignore the feeling in his gut that it was just a pretty lie.

~~~~

Bucky’s newest and most embarrassing hobby was watching Steve from halfway across camp. Technically, he called it sniper training. Technically, he was honing his skills. Also, technically, he was the best shot that the SSR had ever seen and really didn’t need practice. But, well, Bucky got bored. And recently he’d been getting bored a lot because he was picking up skills more quickly than the rest of the Howlies. So, while they were stuck practicing the basics of espionage and fighting behind enemy lines, Bucky was free to acquire a few interesting pastimes. Including the pursuit and observation of Captain Steven Grant Rogers.

Which was when he first noticed that Steve was moving strangely. 

Bucky couldn’t really place it, but it seemed… different from how Steve used to be. Which was stupid, obviously, because Steve was now two feet taller and three times as heavy. Of course he’d move differently. And he’d gone through army training, which had definitely improved his fighting style. Maybe it was his time in the USO, giving him a crash-course in heroic nonverbals.

The way he moved seemed… deliberate? Like he planned every action ahead of time, barely letting himself twitch a toe out of place.

It reminded Bucky of when his little sisters did something wrong and then tried to act extra innocent just to throw his Ma off the scent. But what the hell would make Captain America feel guilty?

And furthermore, what would make Steve feel that way? When they were sixteen the two of them had gotten drunk on stolen communion wine in the back offices of the church, only to be caught by Sister Abigail. Steve had drunkenly sworn his sobriety and was so unabashed that the nun had waved them both away with nothing more than weary admonishments. Bucky had seen Steve look army doctors in the eye and swear he was from New Jersey without flinching. Steve Rogers was a shameless, cunning, self-righteous asshole who would tell a lie and swear to it in the same breath. So whatever this was, it had to be huge, because the man looked like he was defusing a bomb while walking a tightrope. 

And it wasn’t just when Steve was in crowds. That, Bucky would have understood. He knew how loud crowds were, how messy and unpredictable, how they pressed in without warning and made the world shake apart. As much as was possible, Bucky avoided crowds. Hell, Bucky had asked for sniper training so he could stay out of close-combat situations. Steve wasn’t like that. He didn’t stay away from people, he just didn’t seem comfortable when he was around them.

Unless, of course, Agent Carter was nearby. Then Steve just relaxed, like he’d done that first day back, like she was a balm to his fuckin’ soul. Like she was something he needed.

She was a good dame, far as Bucky could tell. Headstrong, righteous, and beautiful. Just like Steve. Just like everything Bucky wasn’t, so that was a relief. If Steve had to pick anyone else to love, Bucky was glad he’d picked Carter. 

Still hurt though.

Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, with each other ‘til the end of the line, but maybe the line had ended in Brooklyn and Bucky just hadn’t noticed. Or maybe Bucky fell off the line when that HYDRA trash started scarring up his body in that damned factory. 

And Steve had seen, Bucky knew that for certain. Steve was there by the river when Bucky stripped to wash the filth of the labs from his body. There were scars along his arms, his legs, his back. There was a scar just below his ear, in plain sight. A constant reminder that Bucky was damaged goods.

Steve deserved better than a third-class omega. That Steve stayed away from him made sense. Smart move, Rogers.

But whatever Steve’s opinion of Bucky, it didn’t tell him why Steve was moving like that.

Not an injury. The serum would have healed it by now. Probably. And Steve couldn’t have been injured anyway, not without Bucky knowing about it. Because Bucky was always watching Steve.

Which was creepy, sure, and probably a sign of his desperation, but Bucky wasn’t going to stop so there was no point feeling guilty about it.

Bucky sighed, as deep and long as he could, and shook himself as he broke from his watchful stillness. If he didn’t know what was wrong then he couldn’t fix it, and this had the potential to be dangerous in the field. Especially to Steve. 

So Bucky swallowed his pride and went to speak to the one person who might know Steve better than him: Agent Carter.

~~~~

“Sergeant Barnes, can I help you,” Agent Carter said sharply, though with little heat, “Or are you only here to obstruct my view of the hallway?”

Despite his earlier resolve, Bucky was deeply uncomfortable with the situation. Agent Carter was sitting behind a small clerk’s desk, neatly organized piles of paperwork before her. She was calm, collected, sure of herself in a way Bucky had only ever faked. Nothing about this situation was going to be easy, but the obvious differences between himself and Agent Carter added a unique layer of strain.

“It’s about Steve. Captain Rogers,” Bucky choked out, hastily throwing on a veneer of professionalism. “If you’re not busy. Ma’am.”

Carter considered him, from his tangled hair to his muddy boots, obviously making note of his distinct lack of military discipline. Bucky didn’t give enough of a shit to merit squirming.

She gestured for him to step inside. “Best close the door, Sergeant,” she said, “And take a seat. I’d rather not have you fainting on the carpet.”

Bucky sat as directed, not bothering to hide his confusion. “Faint, ma’am?”

“You look tense, Barnes.” She set aside the forms she had been working on, resting her forearms on the table. “I’ve seen more than enough combat fatigue to know the signs.”

Bucky’s blood ran cold, chills playing up and down his spine as he sat rigidly in the small, uncomfortable wooden chair.

Agent Carter put up a hand. “I’m not about to sign the discharge order if that’s what you’re wondering.” She sat back once more, eyes boring into him. “But you’d better give me a damn good reason to keep you here.”

He couldn’t think, could barely breathe. He heard himself answer, “For Steve,” and slowly his mind and body slipped back together. “For Steve,” he reiterated, “because he doesn’t know what the hell it’s like out there. He’s always run headlong into fights he knows he can’t win, only now he thinks he can. ‘cept he doesn’t know. Can’t. This isn’t a goddamn Brooklyn alley, it’s war, and he doesn’t know. So he needs someone at his back who does. Someone who won’t give a damn about hauling Captain America out of a fight, screw the propaganda. That’s me, ma’am. I’m the one who’s gotta watch his back.” Bucky realized he was breathing heavily, fingers twisted into the fabric of his pants. Agent Carter was looking at him with an indecipherable expression.

“Congratulations, Sergeant Barnes,” she said, with caustic sarcasm, “You’ve been reassigned from the Howling Commandoes-” Bucky flinched. “to my personal staff, effective immediately.” 

Bucky’s head snapped up, and he saw that Agent Carter was smiling, sharp as a viper. There was a tense moment, stretched taught by the previous bouts of nervousness and fear. Bucky saw the future – a discharge, a ship home, a lonely apartment – bloom and fade in the same instant. Agent Carter was offering him a choice between leaving Steve to fight alone or… whatever she wanted him for. 

Which would never be a choice at all.

Bucky squared his shoulders and sat upright, steel in his spine once more. “What are my orders, ma’am?”

The sharpness left Agent Carter’s smile, and they sat there for a moment. She was more unguarded than Bucky had ever seen her, which made him feel almost her equal. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so terrible to do desk work, planning missions, prepping field gear and the like. She might sometimes let him have a say in the missions Steve took on, might let him veto the ones that would be too dangerous.

“Your only task, Sergeant, is to bring Steve Rogers back from every mission, alive.” 

Bucky’s shock must have shown on his face, because she continued, “Did you really think I’d be allowed to pull the SSR’s best sniper out of Captain America’s team? Besides, you’re completely right. Steve needs someone watching for the things he doesn’t know might be coming. He needs an experienced team because he is not. And I guarantee, letting Captain America die would be a worse blow to morale than a single failed mission. Get him back in one piece and the Office of War Information will do the rest.

“Furthermore, an alpha is almost useless if they’re out of touch with their mate for too long. Better you’re there with him so you can keep an eye on his behaviour.”

Bucky felt his mind stutter and go blank in the same instant. There was no sense in Agent Carter’s words. Until suddenly, with heart-wrenching clarity, there was. 

“Ma’am… are you going into the field?”

It was the best Bucky could manage. You didn’t just ask if someone was secretly mated, it wasn’t done. And Bucky… didn’t want her to say it. He didn’t want to know.

Steve deserved to be happy, and if Carter made him happy then Bucky could accept it, but he didn’t want to know.

Carter was staring at him like he was the stupidest greenhorn she’d ever had the misfortune to meet. Fuck, he shouldn’t have said anything. Should have kept his stupid trap shut. Should have kissed Steve years ago under the lights of Coney Island, when the heat was unbearable and Steve laid out on the boardwalk in a thin shirt and he never stopped smiling up at Bucky even after Bucky had dragged him onto the damn Cyclone-

“Sergeant Barnes,” Carter’s voice was patient and pointed, like she was dealing with a disobedient -if entertaining- child. “I am routinely in possession of information that is classified above Top Secret. As such, I make it a habit never to break a confidence, no matter how innocuous the subject matter.” She leaned back in her chair, eyes sparkling. “But in this instance, I believe discretion is not the better part of valor. Steve is thoroughly uninterested in pursuing a relationship with me.”

Carter let the words sit heavily between them. Bucky once more felt stretched out of shape, seams of reality pulling taut, ripping, giving slack again. Was there still a chance… 

This was not going as planned. This was not why he came to Carter.

“Steve-… Steve moves like he’s… like- like everything’s glass,” he choked out, “like the world’s glass. Do-… do you… why? Why does he do… that? What did the serum do to him?”

Finally, Carter looked ruffled. Finally, she looked like she was… considering him. Like she was seeing behind the façade. No longer focused on seeking the strengths and limitations of a soldier, now she was looking at who Bucky Barnes was beyond his serial number and test scores.

“I told you, Barnes, I don’t betray confidences. But…I understand you were his friend, yes? Long before the war?”

Bucky nodded.

“Then you’d be best served by asking him.”

~~~~

It was late evening, nothing left to do in the day, so Steve sat on his bunk and stared at his hands. 

They looked almost the same. One piece of who he was, grafted onto this new body. He kept finding pieces he recognized – his eyes, the slant of his nose, the birthmark on his thigh, the corner of his smile – set beside new bits of muscle and sinew. He felt constructed.

He was constructed.

He was a monster, the creation of a mad scientist with the best of intentions. The serum, in making him healthy, had changed him into something new. He wasn’t meant to be this. Erskine had assumed – like everyone, like Steve – that he was a beta. Captain America was never meant to be an alpha. Alphas didn’t bring peace, they only ever escalated the fight, but Steve… 

Hell, Steve had been escalating fights from the time he was six. What had he ever done but lied, twisted rules to his favour, started fights that he couldn’t finish without-

-without Bucky.

Bucky, the omega that he’d been fighting to protect – to claim, God help him – since they’d met as boys. Bucky had hated when alphas had been pushy with him. The demands, the entitlement, the harassment, Bucky had never put up with any of it. Except when it was Steve, because Steve was a beta, and that was different. Now everything had shifted, and there was a clear choice: be a creepy alpha or keep himself away from Bucky.

But Steve’s nerves were singing with energy, all of it directed at Bucky. His new hormones were insistent that he continue his protection, and it only got worse the closer he got to his friend.

He had to stay away, it was for the best. Bucky deserved more than an engineered freak for a mate.

Steve shoved himself off the bunk, pacing his tent as he mentally recited the week’s schedule. All of it was useless for him – his body hardly needed calisthenics. His mind worked faster than any of the trained strategists. And, an insult to all injuries, he was a natural leader. The men followed him without a second thought, trusting his judgement, coming to him with problems, listening when he talked.

He wondered if that was all because of his designation. He hoped that it was truly his personality that inspired that level of confidence. Leadership was important to him, and he wanted to be good at it. Steve had always wanted to take care of the people around him.

Was that an alpha thing? Or would he have been like that, no matter his biology?

There was a rustle outside his tent. Before he could even get his guard up he heard Bucky’s voice.

“Stevie? You in there?” His voice was barely a whisper, probably too soft for anyone else in camp. The sound drew him forward. Bucky had always had a beautiful voice, but his rough whisper was intoxicating. Steve had opened the tent flap before he’d made the decision to let him in.

Bucky looked wrecked. The day’s grime had been washed away, his clothes laundered, but nothing could scrub out the bruised circles under his eyes. His hair was lank and damp, clothing rumpled, eyes shifting and unfocused.

“Jesus,” Steve breathed, “Bucky.”

When Steve said his name Bucky swayed towards him, arm twitching out in an aborted gesture. Bucky had always touched him freely, without reserve or self-consciousness, but now he pulled away, and Steve could hear his own heart breaking. He stepped aside, allowing Bucky into his tent. 

Steve watched him walk slowly to the desk and chair, steps deliberate and measured. He looked like he was preparing himself for something. 

Bucky licked his lips, then said “Stevie?”

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Are you okay?”

Steve hesitated, habitual reassurances warring with his desire to be heard, to be known. He settled on doing neither. 

“Your hair’s a mess, Bucky.” 

Bucky’s face shifted, cheeks pinking with embarrassment. Steve tried to pry his foot out of his mouth.

“Let me fix it for you?” Good one, Rogers. Comb his hair, how intimate could that get? Is this how you avoid a person? But Steve found it disturbing that his best friend had stopped caring about his appearance. That wasn’t like Bucky. There was something wrong, and if he kept Bucky around him he could keep him safe. Might even be able to help.

“S- sure,” Bucky croaked as he moved forward.

Steve guided him to the edge of the bed, not thinking, not planning, just moving. 

~~~~

Bucky melted at the first tug of the brush through his hair. For months he had been fighting Nazis, Hydra scientists, and recently his own head. Bucky wanted to stop fighting. Steve had his hands in his hair, and Bucky wanted so badly to just let go. 

The pass of the brush didn’t falter as Bucky leaned back against Steve’s chest. He would be such a good mate, Bucky knew that. Steve had been the kindest child, always ready to give of himself, and he hadn’t lost that as he’d aged. It had changed, as he’d seen poverty grind people down, as alphas started to harass Bucky, as his mother coughed blood. Life had hardened him, but Stevie… his Stevie… he’d molded himself to be a shield. Steve had started as a caretaker and had slowly grown into a protector.

Unlike Bucky. His life hadn’t given half the pain of his friend’s, but here he was, nothing better than another weapon. Bucky was good at killing people. At least he had a use, he thought, at least he could focus on killing the people who’d try to kill Steve. Because Steve was going to change things in this fucked up world. Erskine saw it. Peggy saw it. And Bucky’d be damned, body buried and cold, before he’d let the war hurt Steve.

Their life had never been kind, but Steve had been. 

Bucky didn’t want to leave his best guy alone in this hellscape life. There wasn’t a soul on the planet that truly deserved Steve, but if Carter was right – if Steve wanted him – then Bucky wasn’t going to deny him.

“I swore, Stevie… I swore if I ever got out of that damn factory I’d ask you,” he mumbled.

“Ask me what, Buck?” 

God, his voice was so soft, so wrecked with emotion. One thing that hadn’t changed was Steve’s voice, and Bucky thanked every lucky star. He could get used to anything so long as it was Steve, but he’d fallen in love with that voice first, during late nights in the dark, when they were just two boys on a fire escape whispering secrets to the sky.

“To be my mate.”

The brush went still, and Bucky didn’t care. He wanted Steve, more than everything else in the world. Whatever the answer, Bucky would die loving Steve Rogers. And if the answer was ‘no’, well… there was a war on, maybe he’d die sooner than later.

“You’d take such good care of me, Stevie,” he murmured, “you always have. Always kept me safe. Always made me feel like I was worth somethin’.” He huffed a laugh. “I wanted you before I knew what wanting was. S’okay, though, no matter what your answer. I said end of the line, I damn well meant it. Whatever happens, Stevie, whatever you choose, I’m watchin’ your back ‘til the end.”

Steve was trembling behind him, he could feel it everywhere they touched, but Bucky wouldn’t move. His body was thin, and Steve was now the strongest man alive; if he wanted Bucky to move, he’d move him. Beyond that, Bucky wasn’t giving up what might be the last good moment of his life, not for all the gold in-

Steve crumpled, resting his head on Bucky’s shoulder, rubbing his tear-soaked face into Bucky’s collar. “Please, I- I…” he struggled through the sobs, “I’m not what I used to be, I- Bucky, I…”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered, settling deeper into Steve’s embrace – because that’s what it was now – Steve’s arms clinging to him, body pressing as close as possible, “You can throw a punch. Finally. ‘m glad the USO is good for somethin’.”

Steve might’ve choked out a laugh, or that might’ve just been another sob. “I’m a- I’m an alpha, Bucky.”

“I noticed, Steve.” Bucky kissed the side of Steve’s head, taking what might be his only opportunity. “Thing is, an alpha can mate an omega, just as easy as a beta could.” 

Steve paused for a long moment, and Bucky took the opportunity to press back further, tipping Steve onto his back on his bed as Bucky turned to lay on top of him. He settled his ear over Steve’s heart, content to hear it beat steadily, easily, for the first time since they were children. If this was all he ever got, it’d be worth it.

“Don’t care.” Bucky could feel himself sliding into sleep, exhaustion gaining ground. “Don’t need an alpha, but I need you… need you healthy… wouldn’t care if you’re a Martian so long ‘s I get t’ know you’re alive…”

~~~~

Steve held Bucky all through that night. He kept the omega tucked into his side, pulled a blanket around them both, and didn’t sleep a wink. Couldn’t, not with the world spinning like this.

Bucky wanted him.

Bucky had wanted a sick, skinny, overaggressive beta with no sense and less money. Bucky wanted to mate with Steve. Mating was forever. Bucky wanted forever with Steve, and his presentation as alpha hadn’t changed that. 

James Barnes, the beauty of Brooklyn, the most generous man Steve had ever known, wanted him. Was in love with him.

By the time Steve had started to accept it the sky had lightened too much to justify sleep. The day would be grey, and the damp was already sneaking past the blanket. Bucky shifted, nose pressing against the scent gland under Steve’s ear, and Steve squirmed. Scenting like that only happened between mates. 

And if he said the word, Bucky would be his.

The blanket slipped off them as Bucky slowly sat up, rubbing his face. For a few precious seconds Steve caught his profile – hair mussed, mouth soft and red, tiny lines pressed into his face from Steve’s uniform – and there was no more hesitation. Whether they mated or not, Bucky was it for Steve. He was the one person Steve would always protect. 

Bucky turned to him. “’llo, Stevie.” 

His voice was blurred with sleep. The dark circles were gone from his eyes, the blue of his irises glowing in the early light. 

“Buck…” he reached for the omega, who immediately settled back on top of Steve and pressed their foreheads together, “James Buchanan Barnes…”

Bucky snorted. Steve softly butted their heads together and restarted.

“James Buchanan Barnes, will you be my mate?”

Bucky’s head snapped up, and for one moment Steve was scared he’d overstepped. But then Bucky smiled, wide and bright and wonderful, a smile that hadn’t been seen since Brooklyn. 

And Bucky was kissing him.

Lips slid against lips, catching on stubble, seeking out the wet heat of mouths. Tongues slipped between them and they both moaned for the taste of it. Steve’s hands were in Bucky’s hair, teasing and tugging him closer. Bucky’s hands roved over Steve’s chest, collar bones, neck. It was all so new and so achingly dear.

Bucky pulled Steve’s hand away from his neck, tangling their fingers as he scented the alpha’s wrist. He’d done just the same thing before he’d shipped out.

“One condition,” the omega murmured, licking the pulse point.

“Anything,” Steve breathed.

Bucky’s eyes were intent on his as the omega moved his mouth from wrist to elbow, to shoulder, to collarbone, giving little kitten-licks as he went. “Whatever trouble you get into,” he mouthed into Steve’s clavicle, “I’ve gotta be there to get you out. I ain’t leavin’ my best guy all alone on the front lines.”

Steve’s heart seized and he flipped them over, elbows pressed to the cot and bracketing Bucky’s head. The thought of Bucky fighting beside him was terrifying but… right. And Bucky would be a sniper, Steve reminded himself, so he would rarely be in the line of fire.

Steve slipped one hand down the side of Bucky’s face, his thumb stroking Bucky’s cheek reverently. The omega stared up with dazed heat. His tongue flicked out, catching his bottom lip, and Steve just had to kiss him. Steve pulled back long enough to murmur the promise into Bucky’s mouth. 

“I’m with you, ‘til the end of the line. Just like always.” 

There were hands at his waist, climbing up as they pulled him closer. Bucky wanted him closer, and Steve’s body sang with the knowledge of it. Then Bucky was pulling back, just slightly, just enough to hold Steve’s gaze.

“I’m yours, Steven Grant Rogers,” he laughed, happy and uncomplicated. Steve tried to kiss him through their smiles. When that didn’t work he moved to Bucky’s cheek, his jaw, down under his chin, scenting the way Bucky had earlier. 

Bucky’s moan was filthy, his breath punched out of him.

“God damn, Rogers, take a dame for a meal first.” He was shivering with need, and Steve’s mouth was watering.

“I got plenty to eat right here, doll,” Steve said, attacking Bucky’s neck and shoulders with his lips. Bucky’s fingers scratched into his back as he mouthed along the omega’s scent gland. Steve prayed for the scratches to scar. 

“Yes,” he hissed against Bucky’s throat. Bucky’s fingers soothed down his back, and Steve spoke between kisses, “Can’t hurt me, doll…serum’ll take away all your marks… unless you really try.” Steve brought himself up to catch Bucky’s gaze, and they just stared for the space of a heartbeat. “Try, doll.”

Bucky’s kiss was ravenous, all tongue and teeth and bruising heat. He began to tug on bits of Steve’s uniform, silently asking to remove each piece. Steve held himself still, only moving as Bucky directed. It wasn’t sexy, their movements unpracticed, neither wanting to look at buttons or clasps when the other was right there, close enough to taste. Finally, Steve was left in just his underwear, kneeling on the bed between Bucky’s thighs. Bucky’s hands had stilled over Steve’s hips, eyes fixed on the frankly impressive bulge in his shorts. The omega licked his lips again, gaze traveling down Steve’s thighs, then up again to Steve’s stomach, then chest, then face. Steve let him get familiar with his new body and tried to fight the flush of embarrassment he could feel creeping down his neck. Meeting Steve’s eyes Bucky shifted up onto his knees and started peeling off his own clothes.

Steve’s face was bright red, he could feel it.

Then Bucky froze. Steve’s blood ran cold at the look on the omega’s face, like a man who’d been sucker-punched. He didn’t have any idea what stopped Bucky, Steve hadn’t even touched him, but it probably had to do with being an alpha, and this body, it was too-

“That’s it… isn’t it,” Bucky breathed, then he started to laugh. “You think you’re gonna- Christ, Stevie, you think you’re gonna hurt someone?” He snorted, collapsing and burying his face in Steve’s neck, arms wrapping around the alpha’s waist, “you’re the furthest thing from a bully I’ve ever known.” Bucky kissed his neck. He was still laughing a little in… disbelief? “Hell, Steve, you move like you’re gonna break the world.”

Steve’s voice was tied in knots, but he choked out, “I’m an alpha, Buck.”

“You- Fuck Stevie, you keep saying that, but I’ve only ever seen you protect people. Just like those stories your Ma told about your Da.” He pulled away to look at Steve but didn’t let go. “You protect people and you never want a thing in return, and that- that’s who you are. Designation be damned, you’ve always looked after me, Stevie. But, babe…” and Bucky broke down again, his whole body shaking with his laughter, “babe, I’m… I’m so sorry, but you’re not intimidating.” Bucky looked him in the eye. “You’re like a blond puppy, you’re just… approachable, Stevie. Everyone in camp likes you and you think you’re threatening?” Then Bucky was laughing, and Steve realized the odd twist in his gut was bruised pride.

“I can be intimidating.”

Bucky laughed so hard he collapsed back onto Steve.

Ignoring his omega’s indignant squawk Steve hefted Bucky up and gently laid him on his back, his thighs bracketing Steve’s waist. His hands slid up under Bucky’s shirts. For full minutes Steve reveled in the warmth of the omega’s skin until Bucky’s laughs were replaced with sighs of contentment and banked desire. Soon Bucky’s hands were seeking out Steve’s skin, fingers tracing lazy patterns over shoulders and biceps. 

Steve slowly peeled Bucky’s shirt off, then shifted his hands to Bucky’s pants, unbuttoning them and slipping his hands inside as he licked across the exposed chest. Bucky lifting his hips was all the encouragement Steve needed to strip the pants off Bucky’s toned legs and drop them to the floor. His underwear was added to the heap a moment later, and there was nothing between them.

Steve’s hands moved over the faint scars on Bucky’s torso. They were pink now, instead of the angry bruise-red they had been on the march back to camp. Some were puckered in, little furrows that Steve traced with his fingers. Others were raised, skin shiny and new. He hated that Bucky had been made to endure so much, but when he looked at them all he saw was a miracle. Each one was a reminder that Bucky was out, and safe, and Steve had made the right choice. Bucky was alive, and he had a chance to heal.

He held Bucky tighter. Naked, they clung together for a few moments, arms snaking around each other, noses pressed to scent glands. There was peace here, safety, comfort, and a simplicity of being that Steve hadn’t known since before his mother had died.

Home, his mind whispered, this is home.

Then Bucky moved against him, and Steve felt heat shiver through his bones. He thrust against the crease of Bucky’s hip, feeling the omega gasp as his leaking cock slid against Steve’s belly. Then one of Steve’s hands took hold of Bucky’s waist, the other moving over his chest.

“Hey, Stevie?”

Steve, reeling from the feel of so much skin, only hummed in response.

“I know that people talk a big game about how it’s the act that, y’know… makes a mated pair. But, thing is…” his breath hitched as Steve thumbed over a nipple, “the thing is, they’re wrong. You asked, I said yes. That’s it, get it? We made a choice and the rest of this… all of this, it’s- it’s not really needed to be proper mates.”

Steve’s hands fumbled and stilled, eyes snapping up to Bucky’s face. “You don’t want…”

“Ah, shit, nah Stevie I… fuck I want you. You make me feel so good Stevie. You feel good,” he used a hand on Steve’s neck to pull himself up off the bed, closer to Steve, holding his gaze. “Fuck I love the way you feel against me. But it’s still- I dunno what I’m sayin’ anymore, I just- I’m not here for the sex, Stevie. It’s- to me, it’s already a done deal, you get it?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, smiling in a way he hoped was sly, but which probably looked as besotted as he felt. “You’re already mine, aren’t you doll?”

Bucky swayed back on the mattress, exhaling a breathy “Yes…”

“My mate… my Bucky.”

“Yes, Stevie… I’m- ahh- I’m all yours. Only yours, alpha.”

The endearment almost knocked Steve for a loop, because for a few moments it didn’t register as wrong. He’d spent all his time since the serum trying to forget his designation, and then Bucky moaned it so sweetly into his ear, and it felt so sacred. Like his body, in all its false construction, could give so much to his mate. It’s a strong body, healthy… virile. He has stamina beyond anything he knows to be normal, and he’s strong enough now to support Bucky’s full weight. A shiver traveled down Steve’s spine. He can make his strength – his new nature – a gift to his omega.

This is how he will be an alpha, he realizes. This is the path he will choose to walk. Steve Rogers will take all that an alpha could use to harm an omega, and he will place it at Bucky’s feet. 

Steve groaned, the weight of self-disgust lifting from his shoulders, as he moved off the bed.

Bucky’s moans followed him, evolving into words. “I didn’t mean to talk you out of this, babe.”

This time Steve knew his smile was wicked. He hooked his arms around Bucky’s bare legs, hauling him to the edge of the bed before sinking down between them.

“Bucky… my omega…” Bucky’s responding moan was more of a growl. Steve kissed his way from behind Bucky’s knee, along the inside of his thighs, to nuzzle at his delicate scrotum. He scented his omega’s arousal before meeting his gaze. “I serve at your pleasure, my mate.”

Bucky’s eyes went soft and unfocused before he fell back against the bed. “Said it before…” he moaned, one hand tangling in Steve’s hair, “You’re gonna be the death of me, Stevie.”

Steve just smiled, mouthing at the crease of Bucky’s hip, rubbing his cheek against the base of his cock. He couldn’t get drunk anymore, but he felt his blood buzzing in the same way. There was coiled tension in his body. An ache had started in his ribcage, flowing out through his limbs, brushing at the back of his neck. And Steve could feel that ache melt into heat with every touch to his mate’s body.

A leg hitched up over Steve’s shoulder, and he took a moment to nuzzle the back of the knee, where his omega had always been sensitive.

Bucky snorted a laugh and yanked the leg away. “Jerk,” he murmured.

The ache in his cheeks made Steve aware that he was smiling. He kissed up Bucky’s stomach as far as he could reach. When he looked up Bucky was smiling softly down at him, pillow tucked under his head. Steve kissed his stomach one more time, then asked, “What do you want, doll?”

Stress gathered under Bucky’s skin like a spring being wound. Steve brought both hands up to his omega’s sides, running them gently across the skin as he made hushing noises.

“I want-” Bucky croaked, “I want to stop thinking… Please, Stevie.” There were tears in his voice, one hand scrubbing at his eyes, “Please, alpha. Don’t want to think anymore, just…” 

Steve kept shushing until Bucky relaxed against the bed once more. “It’s okay, Bucky. I’m right here. I’m right here, doll. Right here with you, my sweet omega.” He let himself slide down between Bucky’s thighs again. “You just tell me if there’s anything you don’t like,” he softly licked at the omega’s sac, “anything you want.” Steve licked up the shaft, pressed wet kisses to the head. “Can you do that for me, doll?”

Bucky, starting to tremble under Steve’s hands, nodded quickly. Steve let out a deep hum of approval and wrapped his lips around the omega’s cockhead, sinking down to engulf the whole shaft. Bucky’s hips canted up and he moaned. His hand was once again fisted in Steve’s hair. Steve let Bucky guide his movements as he set a steady rhythm, sucking as he pulled off and eagerly swallowing around the cock when it slipped back over his tongue. 

The taste of him was something primal, skin and sweat and copper tang. Steve loved it. Bucky’s hand let go of his hair to fall limply onto the sheets, and Steve pulled back once again to suckle at the head. 

Bucky’s breathing was quick and harsh when Steve sat back on his heels, the omega’s face flushed and eyelids fluttering open. “Stevie?” His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and Steve groaned in need.

“God, Bucky. You’re so pretty, doll.”

Bucky’s blush intensified, and Steve felt a thrilling flutter in his chest. His omega was so responsive, and he wanted to eke out every reaction. Steve leaned forward to trail soft kisses and licks down from the head of Bucky’s cock before pressing his omega’s legs up towards his chest. 

“So pretty, Bucky,” he breathed, one hand dragging down the back of Bucky’s thigh to play lightly around his hole. “So slick for me, my sweet omega.” Steve pressed one fingertip against the rim, feeling how smoothly the omega’s body opened for him. Then he bent his head once more and covered the soft furl with his lips, kissing lightly. He licked the slick from his lips and kept kissing, open-mouthed and wet, the way he had kissed Bucky’s mouth. His tongue delved into the furl, playing with the rim and stroking across the warm walls of his omega’s body.

The moan Bucky let out was filthy, his body trembling and limp already. Steve’s hands were the only thing keeping his legs in place. “Please…” he rasped out, “I want- ah! Please, in me… alpha, please!” 

Part of Steve wanted to stay, wanted to spend the night tasting the sweet slick of his omega. But his mate was crying out so beautifully and he couldn’t bear to disappoint him.

He slipped his hands around Bucky, lifting him up to shift him further onto the bed before laying down between his legs. Everywhere they touched Steve was on fire, a gentle kindling of passion and care. He loved this man. He loved Bucky Barnes so much his heart felt ready to break. So Steve kissed him again, and Bucky kissed back with even more hunger, even more desperation than before. Bucky rolled his hips as they kissed, tongues and cocks stroking together, wet and clumsy and perfect.

Steve wanted the heat of his mate. He wanted to feel Bucky shudder around his aching cock. Bucky’s hips pressed against Steve with more insistence, whimpering softly.

Steve hadn’t been this out of breath since before the serum, but he managed to whisper against his mate’s lips, “You want me, doll?” 

Bucky laughed softly and hooked both legs around Steve’s waist. “Please, my mate,” he said, “I want you in me, alpha.” Steve stared down at Bucky, whose smirk was too dazed to be properly wicked.

Steve loved this man, but he really was a little shit.

Planting his knees solidly on the bed, Steve wrapped one arm around Bucky’s shoulders, the other guiding his cock to rub against Bucky’s slick hole. He pressed in, inch by inch, feeling the flutter of pleasure in his omega’s body. When their hips met again Steve felt his breath punched out of his lungs, so overwhelmed by the sight of Bucky, eyes unfocused and face enraptured. 

“I love you, Buck,” he said.

Bucky’s eyes drifted closed, one hand reaching up to slide into Steve’s hair. “I love you, too, Stevie.”

Then Steve was moving, small rolls of his hips that had them both gasping. His free hand slipped around Bucky’s waist to gain leverage as his thrusts deepened. Bucky pulled him down into another kiss, moaning as the friction increased, body pliant and sensitive to every brush of his mate’s skin. 

Steve’s lips left Bucky’s, tracing down his neck to seize onto a nipple. He sucked and nipped as Bucky’s moans got louder, his heels digging into Steve’s lower back as he writhed. Neither of them would last, Steve realized, not when their bodies had held this tension for so long. He kissed his way across to Bucky’s other nipple, increasing the pace of his thrusts and making them deeper. His mate’s hole felt greedy, slick and trembling and clenching down on his cock. Steve shifted his omega’s body closer, curled his hips up, and the next thrust had Bucky keening. 

Steve gave one last lick to his mate’s nipple before reaching up to kiss him again. He swallowed all of Bucky’s moans. Every time he thrust his cock into him, Bucky’s fingers gripped tighter in his hair. Bucky’s other hand came up to rub at his neck, scratch over his shoulders, and Steve felt himself slipping. He pulled Bucky to him as the omega shook, then cried out into Steve’s mouth as he came, spurts of his come covering Steve’s chest as his hole tightened around his alpha’s cock. A few thrusts later and Steve followed him, moaning against Bucky’s lips as he filled his omega, his knot swelling to keep them joined.

Shifting his grip, Steve pulled his mate closer to keep the knot from straining Bucky’s rim. Bucky laid limply in Steve’s arms, eyes closed, content to be moved as his alpha saw fit. The only sign that he was still conscious was his fingers carding softly through Steve’s hair.

They stayed like that, blissfully wrapped around each other, for nearly half an hour.

~~~~

Bucky woke from his dozing when Steve finally slipped out of him. His alpha – and that was a thought he’d need to get used to – was slowly lowering them both to sprawl on the bed, limbs still in a tangle. 

Steve had taken such good care of him, exactly as Bucky knew he would. While the skinny beta he’d grown up with had been protective, Steve’s new strength had made him softer, gentler, in ways that Bucky knew he didn’t see yet. Steve had surrounded him, blocking out the rest of the world and letting Bucky fall apart. Letting him breathe. And when Bucky had asked for something his alpha hadn’t even hesitated to give it to him.

His alpha. His mate. “Stevie.”

Bucky realized he’d spoken aloud when his alpha gave a questioning hum. 

“Love you, Stevie,” he mumbled, “my alpha.”

He felt Steve’s hips give an aborted thrust as he moaned against Bucky’s shoulder. Then he was nuzzling into Bucky’s neck, scenting him deeply, intimately, and it was Bucky’s turn to moan. Steve was already half hard, he realized. God, he was going to make use of that, but… later. When he wasn’t so tired. They were mates now, they had forever.

Bucky chuckled. “It’s official now, you’re never getting rid of me, Stevie.”

And he felt Steve place the softest, gentlest kiss to his scent gland, and whisper, “Good.”


End file.
